


Feral

by micehell



Category: Tarzan (TV 2003)
Genre: Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let Kathleen and her new protege cry for John, mouth words like <i>freedom</i> and <i>needs</i>.  Richard knew that <i>responsibility</i> and <i>power</i> were the ones that really counted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this scene... and because I'm a kinky bitch. ;)](http://micehell.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/266/92279)

Richard leaned back into the couch and sighed. He knew that some of his rivals lived and breathed by Sun Tsu, but he'd always found Clausewitz more helpful. _No battle plan survives contact with the enemy_. He looked at the boy strapped to the bed and shook his head, wishing that hadn't been true this time. He certainly hadn't wanted it to come to this. He'd wanted to tame the feral thing that wore the body of his nephew, to train him back to what he could have been. _Would_ have been if John's father -- laughing, charming, _careless_ \-- hadn't shirked duty for pleasure, making all of them pay the price.

John was stirring, the drugs wearing off earlier than he'd expected, but there was still time. Because Richard had never shirked his duty; had always done what was necessary for family, for Greystoke. Let Kathleen and her new protege cry for John, mouth words like _freedom_ and _needs_. Richard knew that _responsibility_ and _power_ were the ones that really counted.

More movement from the bed, John's stubborn will fighting the chemical restraint Richard had placed on him. That will was the enemy that had to be faced. Richard rose from the couch, letting go of any qualms he might have had, enjoying the rush of adrenalin that solving a problem always gave to him. He nodded to Nash, who responded, always, _just_ as Richard expected. He gave no reply, simply waved his men forward to get everything ready. They were quick and efficient, nothing but the odd hitch of their breath, a shaking hand, betraying their eagerness. 

Richard frowned at that, wishing they hadn't had to use men with so little control. But John's refusal to see sense, his strange fascination with the detective, Kathleen's ridiculous attempts to interfere, all of these things were forcing Richard to a timetable he hadn't wanted to keep. It left him no choice but to use who he had to, do what he must, just as he himself had been trained to by John's grandfather. 

The bite of the air-conditioning hit his skin as he stripped off his shirt, his pants, his briefs. He didn't falter in front of the men, knowing that his body was nothing to be ashamed of. Let John love the outdoors, the questionably fresh air of New York. Richard had always shone in more urbane locales; the boardroom, the gym, both jungles that Richard was king in. Most of his battles had been done with brains and money, but physical strength was simply another power to be wielded.

John's eyes were fluttering now, rolling madly as he tried to make sense of his world. Richard didn't allow him time, knowing that having him off guard was an added favor. With a minimum of fuss he pressed John's bared legs up to his chest, thumbs digging into the back of John's knees, the fingers of his right hand brushing against a nipple half-visible under the remains of the shirt John had been wearing, under the strap that held him to the bed. John bucked, even as his eyes tried to bring Richard into focus, struggling without even being aware of what he was fighting. 

But it was that fight that Richard had to break him of. Not gently as he'd hoped, but brutally fast, one hand lining his cock up to the barely prepared ass, skin pale and smooth against Richard's as he thrust in hard. John bucked again, crying out in pain, but Richard just shoved in harder, digging his fingers in deeper, his cock in deeper, showing John what his stubbornness would get him. Letting him see what true power was. 

It didn't last as long as Richard had expected. John was still screaming, eyes finally lucid, but full of hate and tears. Still fighting to get free, and definitely not learning the lesson he was being taught, no matter the bruises and blood it was written in across that pale skin. Richard pulled back regretfully, wiping himself clean with a towel Nash handed him, telling himself he'd known it wouldn't be easy. 

He dressed himself with his normal care, ignoring the awkward insults John threw at him. They were curses a child would use, mixed in with an odd one here or there that he must have picked up in his trips around the city. Proof of the suspended life John had lived all those years, with a body that had matured, but a mind that had been starved of all knowledge but how to survive in a harsh environment. Some of those skills might actually stand him in good stead in the business world... once he learned how to survive in _that_ environment. Once he learned.

Richard sat back on the couch, a nod at Nash producing the next man in line. Hard hands gripped legs that tried to kick, a large cock slammed into flesh already torn, and John's voice ground down into a hoarse, thin whimper, pulled out of him in a beat that matched the one his body was being forced to. Richard watched, settled in for the siege. 

He smiled, sure of his victory, when the only voice left was his. "Next."

/ficlet


End file.
